The Ivy and The Flame
by Mr. Seppuku
Summary: How Hestia came to fall from grace, and Dionysus became one of the Twelve.


Sing, Muse, a song to Hestia, the daughter of Cronus and Rhea, keeper of the hearth, and one that on former days was called "Olympian." Her undoing was by the hand of Dionysus, god of madness, son of Zeus and Thyone, whom after saving his mother from the depths of Hades, had transported her to the shining peaks of Olympus. Upon their arrival though, both son and mother were rebuked by Hera, she of the milky-white shoulders, and scorned as philanderers and disturbers of the peace. Hera, the cow-eyed, spoke into the ears of the other Olympians, casting fear and doubt into their hearts over the presence of the newcomers. Thus, were those two turned from the merry halls of Mount Olympus and forced instead to live upon its outskirts.  
  
On a certain evening, Hestia, first born of Cronus, was keeping her watch over the hearth of Olympus. Alone, she noticed that off in the distance there seemed to be a single ember, glowing in the night. Growing curious, she wandered closer to the object and discovered the ember was actually a being made of pure fire, whom at that moment was holding council with the god of wine, his head adorned in a crown of ivy. Its body emitted a burning orange light, and bore no adornments save for a golden boar's mask, which sat upon the top of its head. Mesmerized by the creatures form, Hestia hid in the black shadows, watching the being's movements and gestures, yet was too distant to hear its murmurs. Soon enough, the fire being took flight, leaving Dionysus alone. The wine god turned his head to spot his aunt in the dark, and thus implored:   
  
"Aunt, what keeps you from your chambers at this hour of the night?"  
  
Realizing she was seen by the god, she replied in haste:   
  
"Dionysus, youngest among us, perhaps I have stared into the fires of Olympus too long, but it seemed that you were speaking with a being of pure flame."   
  
"Your eyes, dear Aunt, do not deceive you. The creature is Hatt Sut, scorcher of the white sands, sole offspring of Hatt Benu. He traveled a wide breath to tell me of the state of his people and the goings of his own travels."   
  
"Where, young one, does such a creature come from, for neither Apollo nor the slayer of Argos has ever told me of such a thing's existence."   
  
"Aunt Hestia, I came across him and others of his type during my former days, when I journeyed to the distant deserts of Egypt. There these beings, the Hattai, number in the thousands, coming to and from a great place made only of desert sand. It is a palace that stretches so high that Helius only has to lean down a little to grasp its tallest tower. Therein they burn a great flame, both in the day and night, which nearly succeeds our great Mount Olympus in its stature." With this, Dionysus turned his heel and walked from Hestia, keeper of the hearth.   
  
"Where, my nephew, do you go to now?"   
  
"Aunt Hestia, my friend has informed me that tonight they will turn the color of the great flame to a crystal blue, and I depart now to witness this happening." Dionysus called for his chariot. As he prepared to take his seat, Hestia cried out:  
  
"Dionysus, I have long kept the oath not to leave the halls of Olympus, but tonight I fear that a desire never before known to me beckons that I journey with you. Yet, my oath was to the river Styx and cannot be broken."   
  
The god of wine and mirth, sharpened his dark eyes, and thus spoke:  
  
"Daughter of Cronus, great oaths are great troubles. It was such a pledge that deprived my mother of both her only life and love."  
  
Hestia took a nervous glance at the wine god, upon which, he grinned and said:  
  
"Furthermore, my beloved aunt, I promise that we shall depart and return in the span of this night alone."   
  
Upon hearing this, Hestia could no longer resist. She took a seat beside him and a moment later, the two panthers harnessed at the front, their furs speckled with black, took their flight into the midnight air, conveying the two on their distant journey.   
  
The chariot soon came to approach the great city of Thebes, where the cult of Dionysus was raising a great commotion in the streets. To Hestia's dismay, their chariot turned and swooped down towards the maddened crowds. Dionysus leapt from his seat as soon as the wheels touched ground. In craven fear, Hestia, first of immortals, exclaimed:  
  
"Where now, my nephew, do you flee to?" The only response offered to her was the fall of Dionysus' footsteps as he vanished into the crowd. Hestia, in great trepidation, followed after him, plunging into the crowd of Bacchantes, all of whom danced in ecstasy to the crashing of cymbals and the ringing of upraised voices.   
  
In the thicket of the crowd, a multitude of hands and lips, outnumbering those found even upon the stalk of Briareus and his brothers, reached out for the goddess. Unable to escape their lecherous grasp, the great goddess, she who had denied both Poseidon and Apollo, found the shame which she had long averted now inescapable.  
  
Hestia, first born of Cronus, was eventually abandoned by the crowd, left only with her ravaged body and tattered garments in the streets of Thebes. Upon seeing the crown of Eos's head appear on the eastern horizon, the goddess beat her breast and slapped her thighs, knowing full well that if word of what had taken place that night ever reached the mighty son of Cronus, a great punishment would befall her. She thus fled from the dawn, finding shelter only in a dark cave, one forgotten by the world of men.   
  
Throughout that day, Hestia wept silently. Upon the fall of night, she gave herself to grief, weeping so bitterly and loudly that her cries echoed throughout every cavern of the cave. Her tears were flung upon the ceilings and floor of the cave, and thereafter continued to drop, forming both the stalactites that hang from the top, and the stalagmites that grow from the bottom.   
  
A merchant, Epigonoi, had heard the cries in the cave and grew curious about their source. He peeked his head in to find the goddess in her raving state. Despite all his inquiries, he could draw no response from her. So instead, he offered to take her to his following destination, the city of Rome. Hestia thanked the stranger and was soon whisked way, never to see the lands of Greece for many an age.  
  
Meanwhile, upon Olympus, the halls had grown cold without the keeping of the hearth, and the gods had lost all desire for holding festivities. Yet one day, Dionysus and his mother appeared in the halls, with three beings of fire following behind. The Olympians marveled at the sight of them. Dionysus led the Hattai to the hearth, where they immediately jumped in and melded together. This new flame burned long and bright and the Olympians rejoiced at its sight and the feel of its heat. They forgot their sorrows, borne when Hestia was lost, and from thereon, rewarded Dionysus by allowing him a seat beside Zeus, father of the aegis, during banquets, with his mother Thyone in attendance as well.   
  
Alas, fair Hestia, you are lost to us and we are now forced to look instead to the god of merriment with his wine and dance to keep us warm. For you, the thread of Clotho is drawn and cannot be altered. Farewell, great goddess, may you find that the new strange land you now call home suits you better than ours ever did! 


End file.
